Every Breath You Take
by Gina Mary
Summary: A short, fluffy standalone. Spike is in for a surprise one night as he stands under Buffy's window. Post 'Afterlife'


_**Every Breath You Take**_

_Summary: Post 'Afterlife'. Spike is in for a surprise one night as he stands under Buffy's window. Short, fluffy romance, I guess._

_Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and everything connected to it is property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox et all. I own nothing. The title of the story is from a song by The Police._

_A/N: I needed to get this out before I did anything else._

He stood at the base of the tree outside her window, looking up.

He'd been standing there for quite some time now, and the reason wasn't very clear. He knew she was in there; he'd been only a few feet behind her when she came back to Revello from patrolling. He knew she knew he was following her. He knew she was somewhat accustomed, now, to his presence surrounding her always. He thought she knew that it, the stalking, wasn't out on an infatuation anymore, but something far more deep. Something deep in him that needed to know she was safe.

But Spike was standing outside only because of a conflict which was tearing him apart far better than any other person had ever done, mentally or physically. And that was because this conflict arose from him only, so he was the only one who could be blamed for it. It was him who'd be affected by his decision. And he was who had to settle it, then and there, now.

_Oh, come on, Spike,_ one part of him said. _You know she's okay- she's been going to sleep for so many days now with you standing here under this bloody tree. She's always woken up the next morning, hasn't she? _

Spike thought about this. Yes, it was true that he had been standing here every night since she came back, but his goal had been left incomplete each night. He knew what she was going through, after all. He'd had the same hollowed look when he had woken up one night to find himself in a coffin.

He looked at his hands, hands that had bandaged hers a few weeks back. He looked harder, and he saw the bloody hands of a man who had just crawled out of his grave. He looked deeper still, and he saw ink-stained hands, hands that trembled with excitement every time they picked up a pen.

He wondered what she saw when she looked at her hands. Thinking back to when he'd first seen her, he smiled. She probably thought of how they'd gone from being perfectly manicured hands holding stakes, to hands dry with neglect with scars that would last the rest of her life. Looking back up, he told his mind that he knew exactly what she was feeling.

_Yes, but come on, Spike. What you want to do is pathetic. _The voice sounded exasperated, now. _She's going through all that but if you climb this tree to peek into er room in the middle of the night, she isn't going to feel much better, now is she?_

This made Spike pace. He walked circles around the tree, fists clenched at his sides and duster billowing around lean, jean clad legs. Would she scream if she happened to be awake and saw him? Perhaps he should leave. If she screamed, he might fall off the tree and break his legs. That way he wouldn't be able to follow her when she went patrolling. But still . . .

He looked back at her window. He knew she slept fitfully, he could see it in her eyes. But he just wanted to see, just once, how exactly she slept. Now, after coming back. Did she still sleep with a hand tucked underneath her head? Did she still keep her hair open, or was it tied now? His need to know how she was overtook the fairly rational part of his mind and Spike began to silently climb the oak.

When he was sitting on the branch outside her window, he leaned forwards to peek in. Cursing when he saw nothing, Spike scooted forwards on the branch, his duster hindering him. After fifteen minutes of somewhat silent movement, Spike was sitting on the edge of her window seat. Well, at least for the most part. His face was pressed against the glass and he was glad she still didn't draw her curtains.

After a few moments of scanning the room, he found two lumps on Buffy's bed. His undead heart seemed to skip a few beats and his soul seemed to shatter. But as he continued looking, he made out a mop of long brown hair in which Buffy's hand was entangled. _Just the Nibblet, then_, he thought, relieved. He knew his rational mind would be rolling its eyes at that.

Spike now focused on Buffy, watching as she slept with her back to the window. The sheet was almost completely covering Dawn, and he could see her habit of wearing boxer shorts and tees to bed hadn't worn off. Her hair was in a sloppy ponytail but was open for the most part. From where he perched, Spike could only see a bit of her cheek, the tip of her nose and an ear.

But that didn't matter. Slowly, Spike attuned his hearing to the sound of her heart. He smiled as he heard it beat calmly, and he knew she was somewhat asleep. The sound to him was sweeter than anything he had ever heard. That wasn't strange, as he'd taken a vow almost four years ago to make the sound of her dying heart his ultimate goal. But now, his only mission in life was to keep that heart beating. No matter what it took.

His heart seemed to beat, too, as her heartbeat thrummed along his body. His sight now focused on her breathing, looking out for the rise and fall of her chest.

When he couldn't see the gentle movement in her body, he panicked. He knew, somewhere, it was stupid, because his heart was still vibrating along happily to hers. But he couldn't see her breathing! Spike pressed even closer against the glass and stopped his unneeded breathing that was fogging up the window. Desperately, he fixed his eyes onto her body and waited.

When he saw her rolling movement, subtle but definitely there, Spike relaxed. He swallowed through a throat he didn't know was choked and fought away tears he didn't know he still had. Hadn't his tears dried up yet? He could still cry? Amazing.

_Well, mission accomplished._ His level-headedness said to him, dry. Spike nodded to himself, distracted, and he turned around to climb back down the oak.

Suddenly, there was movement inside the room and he heard a faint whisper. "Spike, don't go."

It was her. She was awake, she had known he was there and her heart hadn't sped up like a Slayer's did near a vampire. She hadn't been scared of him. Her heart told him how it trusted him completely.

In his haste to turn back to the window, Spike got tangled in his duster, which he'd been sitting on, and found himself hanging, unexpectedly, above the ground, hands holding the ledge with hands he'd surveyed second ago. As Buffy rushed out of bed to the window, he told his jeering rational mind, _Oh, shut the bloody hell up._

And indeed, it was him who got the last laugh over his mind. Buffy opened her window, panicked, and yanking a sleeve, she pulled him into the house. He collapsed on top of her on the floor of her room, both worrying whether the other was alright.

"Oh my god, Spike, I'm so sorry!" She looked him over worried, and he was amazed at her concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, but wha' about you, luv? Did I crush you? Oh, bloody hell!" He panicked, eyes widening. "I still am crushing you!"

He moved to pull himself off her, but she grabbed him and stopped his movement. Blue eyes met hazel and Spike watched, entranced, as the first smile he had seen on her in weeks spread over her lips.

"I like it this way." She whispered.

And Spike didn't know what to say. He was shocked, stunned, dumbfounded and every synonym of the word there is. When he said nothing, the smile gently faded and she looked at him again with that unfamiliar concern. Unfamiliar only because it was the first time he'd seen it for him.

"What's wrong, Spike?"

Swallowing through a dry throat, he said hoarsely, "Sla- Buffy, are you feeling okay, pet?"

"Of course." She looked curious now. "Why do you ask?" He was silent for a long time at that.

When he spoke again, he had to swallow before he said, "'m a monster, luv. Thought you didn't want—"

"You know your only problem, Spike?" She cut in, a glint in her eye he hadn't seen before. "You judge people and you're too pessimistic."

"That's two problems, luv."

"Oh, and that. Why pay attention to every damn detail?"

"Luv, you're making no sense."

"All I'm saying, Spike," She pushed him off her and stood up. Holding out a hand to him, she gave him her second smile and said, "Never say never."

And she pulled up a stunned vampire and helped him to her cramped bed where she lay down and held out her hand, again. "Come on. You'll help me sleep better from up here."

After a few minutes, Spike croakily whispered, "Buffy . . . I don't know . . ."

"You don't have to know everything, Spike." She pulled him down to the bed and snuggled into his chest. "I don't know how it happened, either. And you know what?" She looked up, and pressed her forehead against his. "I don't really care."

In their room, Willow and Tara smiled.

"Well, it worked," Willow said.

"Yeah," Tara was still smiling.

"I'm not sure if it's for the best, but it does make her happy . . ." Willow remarked, starting to clean up the floor of the remnants of their spell.

"Yeah," Tara sounded distracted.

Willow turned to her girlfriend and, one hand on her hip, asked, "Okay, I'll bite. Why're you so dreamy?"

Tara smiled at Willow this time, not just at the air. "You know what they say about ignorance? About how it's bliss?"

Willow nodded. "Yeah, and the truth will set you free."

Tara grinned. "Exactly. Isn't it astonishing, how much one truth spell can do?"

_A/N: That's it. Chapter 15 of 'Road' tomorrow._


End file.
